The Beast of Bodmin Moor Page 17

  “D’you need to eat? Bacon, cereal, toast, fruit…” he called.

  “Perhaps some bacon later if you’re making some, but a banana will do fine for now.”

  “Yup…hang on.” The scent of banana grew stronger, then a couple flew through the air to land on the bed. “Is two enough?”

  “Great. Thanks.”

  “S’kay, won’t be a mo…tea’s on its way.” Jake polished off the fruit while waiting for Phin’s return, which was preceded by the tray at the alcove opening. Once Jake had retrieved it from him, the sight of an excessive leg landing on the mattress damn near upended their drinks. Watching the rest of him wriggle onto the bed left Jake in no fit state to focus on whatever Phin uttered while doing so.

  “Huh…sorry?”

  “D’you feel okay now?” Phin supplied, settling beside him.

  “Yeah, I’m fine…thanks for the tea…I’m sorry I made you anxious.” He could smell the sharp scent of fear, riddled with worry, staining Phin’s own.

  “You couldn’t help it. I’m just glad you came round. I…didn’t know what to do, whether I should take you to casualty or—”

  “Fuck no!” Jake gasped when a surge of panic flooded his system.

  “What…why…are you scared of hospitals?” Phin’s brow knitted with confusion, puzzled by the vehemence of Jake’s response.

  “Um, yeah…that’s it. I don’t like the…smell.”

  “Jack, you’re a bit of a puddleduck. You worry about hurting me as if you’re a mad-axe murderer and then have a panic about pottering along to casualty. That’s a smidge bonkers.”

  “I’ve obviously come to the right place then.” Jake retorted, tongue in cheek.

  “Ah! How rude! I was scared though…I thought…well, I was worried it was my fault. That I’d done it Too Much.”

  “Phin…nothing is your fault. This is all on me.” The brown muddied with doubt. “Truly.” Jake stated, cupping Phin’s jaw to trap his troubled gaze with eyes that—for once—held only truth.

  “Perhaps you need a Neil.”

  “I need to kneel? Aren’t you supposed to shove your head between your knees when you feel faint?” Jake grinned. He wouldn’t have been the slightest surprised if informed that sporting a teapot on his head might help matters.

  “Noo! Not kneeling down; a Mr. Neil. That’s not right really, I just call him that, it sounds po-lite. He’s Mr. Neil. Kelly. He’s my…I dunno what he is really, they sent me for cognitive behavioural wotsit, but that didn’t work out too well. I think he’s just supposed to keep me out of mischief.”

  “…And does that work out well?”

  “Er…sometimes? I suspect he just spies on me for my mum, like an NHS minder,” Phin admitted.

  “Doesn’t that piss you off?”

  “Not really…the fact I go makes her worry less…and it’s better than anything else they’ve rustled up. At least I’m comfy with Mr. Neil…I like him, and I know the right words to say.”

  “To keep him off your back?” Jake guessed.

  “Yup. I do some listening, say some stuff that befuddles him a bit and then promise to do better concentrating. It’s easy. Jack, why are you laughing?” Phin asked, innocence personified. Guilty as sin.

  “You’re priceless…Christ, I almost feel sorry for him,” Jake chuckled.

  “Parp. He gets paid to put up with me. It could be worse, he could have wound up with a mad-axe murdering hospitalophobic.”

  “True.” Jake fought to keep a straight face, then surrendered to the force of that incorrigible grin. “What am I going to do with you?” he spluttered.

  “You could fuck me…but sadly, I think you did a rhetorical question.” Unleashing a sorrowful sigh, Phin turning huge, tragic eyes on Jake.

  “Ph—”

  “I know, I know…it’s too dangerous. P’raps we could do it in a cubicle at Casualty. That would solve matters a treat.”

  “How d’you work that out?” Jake snorted.

  “Well…you’ll be too spooked to do mad-axing…and if you do go beserker, I’ll be in the right place. Sorted.”

  Wolverine? Oh fuck…they were all doomed. This really wasn’t going to end well. Jake had stopped suspecting that Phin was far more lethal than his foxy friend. He was certain of it.

  29. Phin

  “Well…you’ll be too spooked to do mad-axing…and if you do go beserker, I’ll be in the right place. Sorted,” Phin grinned, triumphant.

  “I’m not listening.” Jack indulged himself in a theatrical groan, rolling his eyes as he raked a hand through his tumble of hair. “I have to go to work later, so I’ll need to make a move in an hour or so,” he sighed. It wasn’t one of his ‘despairing’ ones, it sounded regretful? That was wishful thinking too far, Phin decided.

  “Okay, d’you want me to drive you home? Or somewhere else, if you’d prefer?”

  “Y’sure? I can walk, it isn’t far.”

  “I don’t mind. Unless you don’t want me to know where you live?”

  “Why on earth would that bother me?” Jake (Phin seemed to be even more rubbish at remembering than usual. It was most odd; he could reel off reams of stuff he’d read just once but could never recall a thing he was supposed to) asked. As if telling Phin his address was of no consequence whatsoever.

  “I dunno…in case I climbed in your bedroom window, hoping you were too drunk to do worrying about being dangerous. Not that I would. At all. Ever. O’course.” Phin blinked, a bit, and aimed for an angelic smile.

  “You wouldn’t…”

  “Jaaack, I can’t help but notice you said: ‘you wouldn’t?’ rather than ‘I’m never that drunk’. Does that mean you’re oft too sozzled to insist on safe not-sex?”

  “No! It does not. It was an instinctive response!”

  “But your instincts would have said ‘fat chance o’that’ or ‘you’d be so lucky. I’m never that legless’. They did not though. You said ‘you wouldn’t…’ So, it sounds a lot likely that I might well happen upon you in such a soused state.”

  “I think I should walk home,” Jake groaned.

  “Oh no, you don’t…you’ve already booked your man-wiv-a-van. It’s too late to do cancelling now.”

  “No, it isn’t. I could scarper while you’re in the loo or leap out while you’re driving.”

  “That’s a smidge excessive. Are you sure you don’t need a Mr. Neil?”

  “Me!? Excessive? You’re the one having your wicked way with a helpless drunk.”

  “Helpless? Then you won’t be able to do mad-axing.”

  “Hopeless. And yes. I would.” Jack glowered, which was way too sexy to be scary.

  “I could tie you up, that would work,” Phin mused.

  “F’fucksakes. Phin, just—it would not work.”

  “Jack, I can’t help but notice that even though your voice and eyes are cross…not all of you appears thus afflicted.” Phin cast a glance towards the guilty party, making its presence more than a mite obvious in a most pointed sort o’way.

  “Oh shit.” Jake snatched at the duvet, nearly upending the tray while trying to tug it over his lower half.

  “Why wouldn’t that work? I’m beginning to think you’re fibbing…about all of it. Please be honest…I can’t do working you out. If you tell me you don’t want me, that’s fine. I can understand that, I wouldn’t want me, but…” Phin flicked his gaze towards the fist clutching the covers across Jake’s crotch. “You keep giving me reasons, so I solve them…and then you make up more. It’s like the Krypton Factor. Except, I can’t win…I’ve no sooner popped the last segment into place, than you toss another piece into the pot.

  “It isn’t solvable, that’s why…” Jake grunted.

  “I don’t believe you. You think I’m a nut job, don’t you? So even though you might want me, you won’t, cos I’m…Too Much. There. That’s what I think. I don’t want to do beating around the bush.” Phin told him, too fed up of faffing about to pretend to be considerate. “Jus
t tell me the truth and I’ll shut up and won’t do any more asking. I can be just friends…or even go away, if you want me to. It’s just hard to do understanding, when you came here tonight. Then you kissed me…and did the…other things too. Even though I’d been so sure I’d never see you again. It’s…I’m just confuddled. What have I done wrong?”

  “No. Phin…please don’t think that—”

  “I can’t do choosing about it. I just do think that. I’d do choosing if I could, cos I…don’t want to lose you. Which is doolally daft, when I never had you in the first place.”

  Jack flinched, sucking in a sharp breath. Then fixed him with a blue that burned like gas flame.

  “Oh…you do.”

  “Pardon…?” was but a waft of breath, barely audible even to Phin.

  “Have me.” Jake clarified, so he must have heard, somehow.

  “H-How…?” Phin was more befuddled than ever, because he didn’t have Jake. If he did, then Jake would want him, wouldn’t he? More than that, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Phin could not, if the decision was his to make.

  “Phin…I…” Jake began, then narrowed his eyes and regarded him a smidge suspiciously. For all the world as if he’d just noticed Phin had a ferret secreted about his person, which might get up to mischief.

  Then Jake nodded, almost to himself, and lifted his chin with granite resolve (which was hellish sexy). When he continued, his voice was a rich rumble that resonated with surety.

  “You know you do. Have me. Otherwise you would have told me to fuck off, or just upped and offed to pastures new. You wouldn’t want to stay if you so much as suspected that wasn’t true.” Jake insisted. Scoundrel. “Why live in a campervan, if not to go wherever you want and leave whenever you wish? Never having to worry that you’ve outstayed your welcome? I refuse to believe you wouldn’t have informed me that: you’ve been here a long time; don’t you want to go home now? Those hypersenses know damn well what I want—need. You.” Jake finished, with a flourish. If he’d had a cape to swirl, he couldn’t have been more magnificent.

  “I….” Was he right? He was right about the campervan, of course he was. Phin had bought it so he could potter off as peaceful as can be and follow whatever fancy flitted through his head. But also—yes— he’d wanted to clear off and not cause any more friction for his family.

  Phin didn’t believe Jake was his though, did he? If he did, then surely he’d be happy inside, rather than have twisty guts and scratchy skin? And spooks whispering stuff in his mind, which always made Phin have to do Too Much to shut them up.

  If he was so sure Jack wanted him, then why did he feel so uneasy? Part of the problem was…he had no idea how such stuff worked; what was what, and what wasn’t, or what he was supposed to do. People were tricky at the best of times, even when Phin was in full possession of his faculties. He had no chance now; he hadn’t even been able to think with his top head since meeting Jake…let alone fathom a man as dumbfounding as he was drop-dead gorgeous.

  30. Ja/ke

  “I can’t do choosing about it. I just do think that. I’d do choosing if I could, cos I…don’t want to lose you. Which is doolally daft, when I never had you in the first place…”

  The jackal raised his head, glaring at Jake as a threatening rumble of sound vibrated in Jake’s inner ear. What the hell did Jack expect him to do? Or say? It was bad enough being chewed up with guilt, Jake could sure as shit do without being chewed out by Jack too. The mangy mutt’s muzzle started an ominous quiver that suggested he ‘might at least try, shit-for-brains’. Okay! Strewth, keep your fur on…

  “Oh…you do,” Jake found himself sighing, bowing to the inevitable.

  I hope you’re fucking happy now. We’ve made everything worse, not better. How can I keep him safe if you keep sticking your oar in?

  Have not. Who pulled the plug when you couldn’t keep it together? Who kept him safe? He’s hurting because you’re afraid of hurting him. That makes even less sense than your habitual twaddle.

  Hasn’t it crossed your tiny mind that slaughtering him is one hell of an extreme way to ensure I don’t hurt him more? Putting him out of his misery—literally—isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, you must admit.

  Of course, it has, plumsack, and you know it…which is why I proved it isn’t a problem. You lost it. I fixed it. Remember? Not a hair on Phin’s head disturbed. If you haven’t got the balls now, that’s your problem—literally—not mine.

  “H-how…?” Phin looked bewildered.

  How odd. Not. Pillock. Tell him.

  Tell him what!? You do it, if you’re so sure I’ll fuck it up. Go on, have at it.

  Jake lifted his head and began to speak in a voice so calm, so controlled, he barely recognised its ring of clarity. He heard himself insist that Phin knew he had Ja/ke. A knowledge he must—apparently—be aware of, at some instinctive level, otherwise he would have left, rather than endure feeling unwanted.

  Then, to put the tin hat on it, Jake parroted Phin’s no-so subtle hint to unwanted guests, and topped off the most asinine soliloquy on Earth with this ‘gem’:

  “Those hypersenses know damn well what I want—need. You.”

  Phin blinked, lips parting on a soft ‘o’. Then, he scrunched his eyes tight shut, as if in hope the world might make sense when he reopened them. A forlorn wish, when bugger-all in the van could pull that off, let alone in the wider sense…but still, Jake watched, waiting. He’d begun to feel like a passenger strapped into a car driven by a dipshit dog with a bonkers back-seat driver.

  “I did buy the campervan to potter off wherever I wanted and just…Be. But also, because I made trouble for my mum and didn’t want her to be upset, nor my big sister, so I took myself off. But now I’m a problem for you too, so it is me. I’m a jinx.” Phin’s sigh was steeped in sorrow, echoed by his scent, amplified by those eyes, which could hold a world of pain with plenty of space left to drive a man demented. He scratched at his head, then cheek, jaw, thigh, as if his skin was one vast crawling itch.

  “You are the least of my problems,” Jake promised him. “I’m the problem, not you. There’s nothing wrong with you, Phin…you’re perfect. Too perfect for me. I’ll…sully you.”

  “Sully?” Phin wrapped his tongue around the word with curiosity, as if he were tasting it before deciding whether or not to spit it out. “That’s spoiling the purity of something, isn’t it…making it dirty?”

  “Yes.” Jake just confirmed, not wanting to interrupt Phin’s train of thought. To Tipperary or Timbuktu, or wherever the hell he might go with this.

  “But Jack, I want to be sullied. I want to be so sullied that I stink. Reek of you. It’s you I want. No one else would—could—be enough. I…” Phin dipped his head, staring at the sheet he’d switched to scratching. When he continued, his voice was so soft, it was hard to tell if he was aware of speaking aloud. “I want…I want my dream, Jack. I can’t change my mind or ‘make do’ and don’t want to learn. I’ve tried, but it makes me so uncomfy, I have to do Too Much stuff to…try and make the scratchy go away. I’d already done deciding before I met you. I was just waiting ’til…”

  I found you.

  “…you turned up. That’s how it felt—as if I was waiting for you—whoever you might be. I never expected to find you sitting in my van wearing my snaffled robe…but that made it more right. Too Much right…I didn’t even have to do looking. I just opened my eyes and there you were. So, it’s pointless saying: ‘Phin…please don’t think that’. It’s too late. I never did choosing in the first place. Nor the second. Neither when I woke up, nor when you came back. I’d already told myself that I’d never see you again. You did the choosing Jack, not me.”

  Jake was all-but swallowed by the whites of Phin’s eyes when he rolled them off top right, as if listening to a new proclamation from Planet Phin. One that would, without doubt, cut as close to the bone as those preceding it.

  “When you said— you know you have me—that mig
ht’ve been a smidge true, but if I did, it wasn’t a conscious realization. I didn’t know that I knew,” Phin’s irises skittered off to the left, as if in hot pursuit of a thought. Jake could barely see the brown; he was in grave danger of getting lost in the whiteout. As lethal as they were inimitable; those eyes should come complete with a compass.

  “But… even if a part of me does believe that, a bit, I still don’t think I do, which makes perfect nonsense. I’m trying so hard to do understanding you, but you’re even more tricky than everyone else. They always insist on one thing that makes me scratchy…but you seem…torn in two. Sometimes I think you’ve done deciding we can be together…and that a miracle might just happen if I hope hard ’nuff. But then you snap back into saying ‘no it’s too dangerous’. That’s very befuddling.”